Season V
by Salkiethia
Summary: Compy's challenge. And....it's Obscureship. Shadii and Isis. FTW.
1. Psychoship: Waking the Monster

Waking the Monster

For Compy's Season V Challenge.  
Pairing: Psychoshipping (Yami no BakuraxYami no Marik)

* * *

"Bakura, get away from there!"

The white-haired boy flinched back from the door, holding his hand as if he'd been burned. He glowered at the Professor.

"I've told you often enough – stay away from the experimental lab," the Professor admonished before disappearing through the door. It shut behind him with a resounding _click,_ leaving Bakura standing sullenly outside it. He stared for a long moment at the closed wooden door, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched, before turning and resolutely stalking down the long, dimly lit stone hallway.

_He's never got time for me anymore._ There were no games of hide-n-seek among the specimen jars in the basement, no more science projects…

Depressed, and no little upset at having been brushed off yet again, Bakura began to climb the stairs that led to the north tower where he kept his own projects. Nothing special…just a lot of paper, glue and the occasional flammable substance. I wonder when he'll be done this time. The Professor had been taking more and more time, spending hours upon hours in the experimental lab as of late.

_It has to be something amazing – he always hides the best stuff._

Bakura pulled his wooden chair out from behind the metal examination table that doubled as a desk. The Professor had given it to him, had told him the story behind it, how the cool metal had borne the weight of corpses in a morgue before the Professor had purchased it. Now it only held bits of paper and scissors in assorted colors. He sometimes imagined he could see the bodies, lying stretched out on it still, eyes glowing white from experiments gone wrong.

_Maybe he'll stop ignoring me tomorrow…_

*****

The rest of the week passed in weird junk heaps. Rusted pieces of scrap metal piled down the corridor leading to the experimental lab. Every day, without fail, there was something new tossed onto the pile…and something else missing.

_He can't possibly be using all this!_ Bakura thought, running his hands over a split helicopter blade sitting on the bed of a pickup truck. Broken stereo speakers tripped him as he scuttled away when the door began to creak open. Scowling, the white-haired boy hid behind a pile of the junk, watching as the Professor grabbed a few random items and disappeared back into the lab, door slamming shut behind him.

_I'll find out what he's working on,_ Bakura promised himself. _He's been ignoring me too long._

*****

Upstairs in his room in the north tower, he sat up, working. He was determined to find an answer. Careful hands folded clay, mixed paste out of water and paper. All the while, he had the inside of the lock ingrained in his mind, working on a mold for a skeleton key to break in. _I have to know…gotta know…what is he building in there?_

The Professor was looking thinner and weaker, more maniacal with each passing day. Something was going on…something wrong. And the Professor was hiding it, trying to keep it secret.

The albino boy snarled. _This ends soon._

*****

_There are very few dimensions: three, which we call the three planes of space. And a fourth….time._

He fumbled with the lock on the experimental lab door. A few tries, some shaking of the doorknob…and it opened. Just swung open, as if it hadn't been locked to keep him out. Smirking, Bakura slipped through. Once inside, his face fell. The experimental lab was a small room, nothing exceptional at all. Desperate, he began exploring the tiny space, opening closets and throwing papers about with abandon.

The table in the center of the room made it look even smaller than it was. Sitting on the table was a shiny pistol, a paperweight on top of paperwork. Growling, Bakura snatched up the handgun and scattered the papers. Nothing, nothing! He had been convinced…the Professor had to have been working on something –

He tore open the last closet, and froze. Bars…and behind them, a tunnel.

The door creaked open. Bakura whipped around, holding the gun in two shaking hands. It was the Professor.

"What are you doing in here?"

_I can't open the door…_

A set of keys hung from the Professor's belt, half-covered by the white lab coat. Bakura's eyes latched onto them. "Open the door," he hissed, no longer holding the gun defensively, but offensively, pointing it directly at the Professor.

"Bakura—"

"Do it!"

"Bakura!"

"Let's see what's so important you've forgotten about me. Go on – open it." He placed the muzzle gently against the Professor's temple. "Go on," he urged, voice lighter now that he was so close to finding out what the secret was.

The Professor paused and Bakura cocked the gun. Shaking hands pulled out the ring of keys and fitted them into the lock. All the while the Professor was trying to talk to him. Bakura ignored the words. The moment the door was open, he threw down the gun and dashed down the hallway, chuckling madly.

_Let's see, let's see, let's see—_

"Bakura! Come back!"

Bakura never heard him, too caught up in racing into the cavernous depths of the lab. Mad eyes shone in the sudden darkness as the lit candles extinguished. Mad laughter. Madness…

**Hello, dinner.**


	2. Revolutionship: Broken Vow

**Warnings: **Slight angst-ness.  
**Disclaimer(s):** Nor Yugioh, nor _Poison_ belong to me. ((Yay for classisical structure!)) These two are the properties of their respective creators - the first belonging to a guy obsessed with cardgames whose name I can't spell, and the second belonging to someone else whose name I don't know, but DO know that the artists doing a cover of him/her are called "Groover Coverage." *nod* Yep, I is brilliant.  
**Pairing(s):** The major pairing here is, believe it or not, **REVOLUTIONshipping ((Yami no YuugixAnzu)) **with a side serving of **PEACHshipping ((YuugixAnzu)). **Take it with a pinch of sugar - or salt, if that's your forte - and enjoy.

* * *

She was in the living room when I came home. Her hair was done up – sixth time this week, but who's counting? Slight blush smeared across her cheeks, and her eyes were alight with happiness.

"You're home!"

Yes, so I was. "Anzu, what are you doing here?" I was proud of my voice. It stayed steady even as I was shaking. _Why are you here?_ was the question I wanted to ask. But I couldn't. The words were on my tongue, but I could not speak them.

She dimpled at me, smiling brightly. I remember when she used to smile at me that way. In the earlier times… Before _he_ came along and changed everything.

"He's coming by to pick me up soon," Anzu reassured me. I think it was supposed to be reassuring. Her hands went to pet at her hair.

Manicured nails.

She was never so fancy when it was the two of us.

I wondered at the nature of this mysterious man of hers. She was always _here_ before he came, always eagerly awaiting his arrival as if to rub salt into a wound.

Oh, Anzu, don't you know you hurt me?

My eyes closed. I didn't want to see her in her splendor any longer. The white dress was blinding me, accusing _her._ Once I had thought white meant purity. I suppose lace and flowers condemn purity, and pearls smudge perfection.

I don't recall replying to her, but perhaps I did. At any rate, her hands went to smoothing her dress. They made soft hissing sounds, passing over the fabric.

"He'll be here soon."

Why didn't he ever pick her up at her house? I didn't complain, though. I couldn't. Even if it hurt each time, to see her, it was another minute to spend in her presence.

"He'll be here soon," she repeated firmly.

I nodded.

I should have asked. _What's his name? What does he look like?_ I don't know if she would have answered; she's been incredibly secretive about him. It would have felt nice to ask anyway.

I left her in the living room. I wanted to stay by her, wait for him, but I don't think I could have done it without hating him for kidnapping her interest. Hatred is uncomfortable. Just…not knowing is best.

My feet were heavy on the way up the stairs, moving slowly. One at a time, up the steep incline. I needed to be alone, away from her, even as I desperately wanted to be _with_ her. It had been my own fault. I let her go.

Childhood vows meant nothing in the light of new freedoms. No matter that what we had was built over years; it is – and always has been – her decision. There is nothing I can do.

So why am I still questioning myself?

xxxxx

I'm in my room. I can hear Anzu downstairs, restless as she waits. I can't put my feelings into words, can't descend the stairs to speak with her. She's here…he'll be here to pick her up soon. She said so.

She's always right, even when she's wrong.

I'm tired. Tired of being awake, tired of knowing she's here, waiting for someone else when I had thought we had a forever before us. The bed looks welcomingly messed up. My body drops heavily onto it. Springs creak. The blankets fold.

So this is where I can safely retreat. Not even the recesses of my mind are safe…but this simple room, this bed…

_I wonder if she's sleeping with him._

– no longer a refuge.

My hands cover my eyes. They feel wet, but I know I can't be crying. I can't cry over Anzu's happiness. What sort of friend would that make me?

I must be happy for her.

But…after I've slept. I'll work on a cheerful face once I've cried myself to sleep.

XXX

_I'm dreaming. I know I'm dreaming. How else to explain Anzu with me here, arms wrapped delicately around my shoulders, holding onto me, a brilliant smile lighting her face? She's in white – a rose tucked into her hair, throat heavy with pearls. She's laughing…beaming._

_I laugh too, and bow over her hand._

_She flings herself into another dance, dragging me along. This one is wild and sensuous. Her head goes back and my fingers trace the line of her neck, going down past her collarbone, between the elegant curve of breasts –_

_As I catch myself, wondering what in hell's name I'm __**doing**__, she spins, pressing her body against mine. It drives all other considerations out of my head and I wonder at how real this dream is. I can taste the sweat in the air, and the music makes my eardrums pulse. Strobe lights come on, then, and her sharp moves break up in the shattered illumination. _

_The song lyrics scream along with her moves._

_**I wanna love you but I better not touch.**_

_Her feet are apart as she leans into me, her hot breath on my face. She's so close._

_**I wanna hold you but my senses tell me to stop.**_

_She's looking __**up**__ at me now, kneeling before me. What are you doing?_

_**I wanna kiss you but I want it too much –**_

_Back to her feet, coyly slipping away into a crowd – I have to follow, trailing at her heels like a lost puppy. What is my dreaming mind inventing?_

_**I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison.**_

_Her arms drape around me. "Dance with me!" she orders playfully. Her movements are anything but playful. 'Sinful' is perhaps the most apt description._

_My body moves with hers outside my control._

_I have to tell myself I'm dreaming. She's with her mysterious 'he' and I'm –_

_"Yami, dance with me!"_

…_who?_

XXX

I wake crying. My dream plays again through my mind…but it has the ring of memory, not dream. I bury my face in my hands…pull away an instant later. I smell like smoke and sweat.

Revolted I throw myself from my half-made bed, stumbling forward, pas my mirror…freeze.

Staring back at me is a wide-eyed teen boy – me – but _changed_ somehow. Kohl rims my eyes, running down my face with my tears. The clothing I'm in isn't my own – leathers and buckles and belts …

What's _wrong_ with me?

Footsteps on the stairs. I turn, running a hand hurriedly across my cheeks – a petty attempt at rectifying my face.

"Yami, I – " It's Anzu. "Oh." She stops, frowning slightly.

I recall the name from my not-quite-dream. Yami. The darkness. What darkness?

"Anzu." My voice is not my own. It's firmer, more confident.

She relaxes. I watch my hand lift up, feel it caress her cheek. "I thought –"

"He's watching." My hand taps my head as the voice keeps speaking. I realize I'm not in control of my body. "He can't do anything."

A smile stretches my face; I feel like crying.

"Will he be okay?" _This_ is the Anzu I remember, even hidden under a revealing white dress drenched with sweat.

"He'll be fine." The voice is impatient. "Really, Anzu, you worry too much about him. There are other things to occupy your time."

I can feel him.

He's inside me.

With me.

Anzu pauses, indecisive for a moment, then smiles and I feel my heart break. Anzu, Anzu – this is what you wanted me to be?

He starts to touch her. I can't watch, though I must. I see through his eyes, feel with his skin. Hear her gasps with his ears, shudder and sweat, trapped in this body. With him.

xxxxx

It's midnight. I don't know how I know. It's not important. I raise my hand. _My _hand.

She's draped across the bed next to me, a sheet only partly covering her body. They're both away somewhere.

But I'm awake.

It's raining outside. The drops plink delicately against the roof. Plink-plink. Plink. Plink. Plinkplinkplink.

I scuttle quietly down the stairs, trying not to think too loudly. I don't want to wake _him_. I just want to get him away from her. His touch shouldn't be allowed to sully her beauty, corrupt her perfection.

Even if it's _me,_ doing it.

My feet run through the puddles. I didn't change before – I'm soaked with his sweat and her scent, in leather that hugs too tightly.

I have an idea, wild and insane, but an idea.

I know where I'm going.

It has to end, even if it never really began.

He's awake _now._

Too late.

Trains don't halt at inner darkness.


	3. Buddyship: Hurt

**Warnings: **Slight angst-ness.  
**Disclaimer(s):** Yugioh is not mine. Neither is "Hurt" which was originally done by NIN and then covered by Johnny Cash. ((I used both versions in writing this.))  
**Pairing(s):** **BUDDYshipping ((JouxHonda)).**

* * *

The room was dark, devoid of humanity except for a single collapsed body taking up residence in one of the cobwebbed corners. Dirty laundry was strewn across the floor, and the very air held the bitter taste of defeat.

Honda picked his way through the mess of the old house, his nose crinkled in disgust. It took him a moment to identify the heap in the corner as a human being; the whole house had blended together in shades of brown and grey dirt. Slowly, the brunet made his way over. He knelt by the unmoving body. No…not unmoving. Shallow gasps of air, barely enough to move the body's chest upward, proved that – for the time being at least – the other male was alive. Frowning, Honda experimentally poked the body. A soft groan answered him, and the other human shifted off his side. The brunet gaped. In place of a left arm, there was ripped skin, torn so deeply that white bone shown out from under crusted blood.

Dear god, Honda thought. What in hell's name has he been doing? He knew Jou had taken Yuugi's marriage hard, but what was this? "Jounouchi, talk to me," Honda ordered, shaking the other's shoulder. He couldn't call Jou blond any longer. The same grey-brown dirt that had uniformly shaded the inside of the house had also bleached any semblance of color out of Jou.

The young man was in his early twenties; he looked as if he were a corpse already. "Jounouchi." Honda's voice was more desperate now as he shook his old friend's shoulder. The head lolled on the neck. But Jou was still alive. Honda knew it. He still breathed. Fingers sought out a pulse – yes! – he still had a heartbeat, albeit a weak one. There was nothing about him that could be considered dead except for those eyes that remained closed…and the ashen skin. "Jounouchi – talk to me!"

XXX

Impatiently the brunet waited. Twiddling his thumbs in a hospital waiting room was not what he considered a reasonable past time. Unfortunately, it was a necessary occupation of his time. Finally, after what seemed like eons of waiting – sweating in a business suit still stained with the filth of impoverished living – a nurse came out, and called his name. Honda sprang to his feet, anxious. She offered him a pitying glance and beckoned for him to follow. He did, tracing their steps through the curiously silent hallways. All the halls were white. He'd never noticed that before. Honda wondered if perhaps there was some special significance to that. Why would the whole place be as bleached as freshly done laundry? Trying to hide people's defects, Honda thought cynically. Trying to pretend broken arms and shattered minds were just superficial injuries; it made ignoring the deeper problems that much easier.

When the nurse showed him into the room with Jou, Honda's throat contracted. The young man was stretched out across the hospital bed, eyes closed still, lying limply. His mutilated left arm had been further dissected – presumably for cleaning – and so the skin flaps lay peeled apart, revealing even more of the muscle and bone below that they should have covered. "How is he?" Honda inquired urgently. The nurse gave him a disapproving look. No answer to his question. No reply. Nothing. He tried again. She ignored him. Does she blame me for this? But how could she? The door opened and a doctor in white came in, his face cold and reserved. "How is he?" Honda pressed. A single shake of the head.

"Honda?" the voice was weak, but there. Honda turned, eyes eagerly going to the prone form. "Honda…" Again, just a whisper of the voice that had once echoed over dueling arenas with challenge ringing through it. Where was the strength in that voice now? It was shallow, nearly hollow, an echo, perhaps, of its s owners descent into madness. The brunet reached out for Jou, brushed a hand lightly against his arm. The doctor cleared his throat. Honda paused, glaring over his shoulder. "I'll be back to pick you up."

Jou shook his head. His eyes were still closed, Honda noted with passing interest. "You won't," Jou replied. His voice was unsteady. "You won't."

"Of course I will," Honda protested.

A weak laugh came from Jou. "If you believe that, you're more deluded that I ever was," he coughed out. "Every I know goes away in the end." There was an air of finality to Jou's voice. Honda paused, wanting to dispel the conviction behind those words, wishing to cast some doubt as to the truth of them… But as the seconds slipped into minutes, he couldn't think of anything to say. Finally, he nodded to the nurse and doctor and left. Their accusatory gazes burned through his suit jacket as he abandoned the room and the young man within; he could feel them well after he was gone.

XXX

"Are you going to change your mind?"

He shook his head, put down his head.

There were footsteps, echoing in the back of his mind. I remember everything.

"You won't wait?"

"He's not coming back."

You can have it all…my empire of dirt. I've already seen how you look at me. You're afraid of me, for me. I'll only make you hurt. Give it up.

"If you're sure –"

"He won't have anything to come back to."

"You do know it goes against policy…"

A bitter laugh. "You don't want to deal with my kind anyway."

What have I become?

He could feel the heated lights turn out. The air became chill. The lights had to be out…and the others were gone. He was alone. He could feel it.

If I could start again…

They had left it for him. It was cool to the touch; colder than the air. He took the edge and held it for a moment, just thinking.

A million miles away…

He thought he had wanted to be a policeman when he was younger. To do things to help people…get out of the situation he'd grown up in. Maybe help other people escape too.

I would keep myself…

There was something warm flooding into him. He could see stars, just beyond the windows. Hear the silent nightingales, smell invisible hay.

I would find a way.


	4. Euroship: Science Project

Well, this is for Compy's contest....again.  
**Warnings:** Include explosions, connections that make no sense, plot-less-ness....and poor British swearing. ^^  
**Pairing: **This is **EUROshipping ((Ryou x Kaiba)) **for Compy's contest....so yeah. -.-

* * *

In a gargantuan explosion of fire and dust and ice, the Earth, the solar system and a good chunk of the galaxy blew up. And in the resulting silence, all that could be heard was a sheepish, "Oh... bugger."

Kaiba frowned, turning around to see what his lab partner was complaining about. "Can't even keep Styrofoam balls from exploding…" he mused. Apparently Ryou hadn't been lying about being abysmal when it came to science.

Since their project doubled as a final exam, Ryou's incompetence would be…problematic. Kaiba winced as the rest of the solar system model – the metal coat hanger stubs that had escaped the majority of the blast – disintegrated. Ryou smiled sheepishly. Kaiba shook his head. This was going to be a _long_ two weeks.

"I think it's – oh, _bugger!_"

The brunet didn't bother turning to look. It was easy to guess that more of the model had collapsed. "You should probably get to work cleaning that up," he suggested coolly. Behind him, he could hear Ryou's scattered mix of British cursing and surprised exclamations. Kaiba turned a page of his book, his brow creasing as he attempted to ignore the transfer student's incompetence.

"You do…realize…this is supposed…to be a…group project?" Ryou squeaked, flopping down across the table from the brunet.

Kaiba glanced up. "I'm waiting until you stop destroying things to begin," he replied, returning once more to his book on mathematical formulas. Ryou's indignant glare went ignored. If he hadn't been absorbed in reading, perhaps he would have had to cover a smile; Ryou resembled a fair-haired copy of Kaiba's younger brother.

"Are you done fooling around yet?" the brunet asked casually, turning another page. Ryou's sigh made Kaiba look up. The British youth seemed incredibly put-out by something. "What is it?" the billionaire asked. It was one thing to suffer from inabilities, quite another to be forced to deal with sulking on top of that.

"I _wanted_ to be useful," Ryou whined.

Kaiba winced, closing his book. "If you're quite done, I'll be doing the rest of the project myself," he replied, avoiding the fair-haired young man's pleading gaze. "You've put in quite enough time, I think, and destroyed a good chunk of the basement." He wasn't exaggerating either: Ryou's other failures had rendered the downstairs chunk of the Kaiba mansion rather…different than it had been intended. The solar system had been the last of a trio of projects Ryou had had planned, and that had fallen through.

If the young man hadn't attempted the solar system last, Kaiba mused, ushering Ryou out, it might have worked out. Chemicals left over from the volcano experiment had somehow migrated over to the Styrofoam, and sent them into some sort of…reaction.

"Are you sure I can't help?" Ryou asked. There was hope in his voice. Kaiba glared at him, without speaking. If the kid had been a cat, his ears would have drooped. As it was, Ryou simply looked as though he'd drawn the short stick one too many times. His shoulders slumped, and he went out the door. Kaiba closed it gently, but firmly, behind him.

Now…to do the project himself.

He had a plan of action – something Ryou had been missing – and a method of execution – another missing concept in the British student's preparation – and finally, also possessed the proper materials. That was the only place where the British exchange student and the billionaire had been on the same page.

XXX

It was the work of hours to get the foundation of the rocket structured properly. The math book had come in quite handy with setting up the equations. He wanted a proper explosion, but nothing as earthshaking as to accidentally bring down the school, since these projects would be shown inside. From earlier manuscripts of work Gozaboru had insisted he complete, he'd compiled a smaller list of possibilities, then combined them to form the most interesting combination by far – a rocket that was small enough to fit into the palm of a hand, but which also had the capabilities to blow up several different size structures.

He was pleased with the work. A few more days of straight sessions like this one would yield the perfect project. Not only would it fulfill the mediocre requirements Sensi had given, but it would also be enough to annoy the Mutt. It had been bragging about building the "world's best" science project for the past few days. Kaiba planned on heartily shutting it up.

Now…just to figure out where to hide the completed foundation; he did _not_ want Ryou to come in the next day and destroy all his hard work.

XXX

The door bell rang. "I'll get it!" Mokuba screeched. Kaiba backed out of his brother's way as the black-haired ball of energy raced for the door, nearly tripping over himself with enthusiasm. "Hello!" Mokuba chirped brightly. "C'mon in – Seto's in the living room."

Kaiba winced. Mokuba knew about the science project, hence the invite in. It had to be Ryou. The brunet stood up, brushing off some invisible lint which had collected rather indiscriminately across his lap before fixing his icy gaze onto Ryou.

"Are you ready to work?" the British student asked uncertainly.

Mokuba chimed in with an affirmative before Kaiba could say anything. Seeing no other way around it, Kaiba nodded. "Downstairs."

Wordless, the two descended into the inner recesses of the Kaiba mansion. Once downstairs, Ryou looked around, and confusion settled across his face. "I thought you said you were going to –"

Kaiba cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I have," he answered, voice clipped. "Which leads me to wondering why _you_ are _here._ I thought we agreed that your part in this was done." He crossed his arms, assessing the way Ryou's brown gaze dropped to the floor. A foot scuffed across the basement cement.

"I…I wanted to help." The foot traced patterns on the ground; Ryou's hands were locked behind his back. "Since it _was_ supposed to be –"

"A group project," Kaiba finished for him. "I know. However, seeing your brilliant abilities at explosion producing has _not_ convinced me that this group can pass with your help." He smirked. "Go relax and do British things; I'll take care of the important end."

Ryou stubbornly stood his ground. Kaiba pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his eyes close. He counted to ten, slowly, before opening them again, and fixing his icy stare on those shining chocolate eyes. "Ryou – get the hell out."

It was Ryou's turn to cross his arms. "Not until you tell me what your awesome project is," he growled right back.

"It's a rocket, all right?" His voice was raising. He paused to calm himself down. "Now, you know, I know you know, and you can leave. The door is that way." Kaiba pointed, smirk back in place.

There was hesitation from the fair-haired male. He seemed indecisive, as though he would have liked to leave, but something – or someone – was making him stay. Kaiba didn't like that. He snarled the order once again. This time, Ryou blatantly defied him.

"No!"

This was getting redundant. "I'll tell you anything you want to know about the project later, but I need to work on it, and your presence is not conducive to a productive atmosphere."

Hurt flashed through Ryou's eyes. Kaiba did not care. He reaffirmed his desire for Ryou to remove his presence. Once more, the youth defied him. Kaiba was becoming fed up. If he had to physically remove the British student, he would do so! With a growl and warning step forward, Kaiba finally managed to get his message across. Ryou meeped in surprise and fled back up the stairs. Satisfied, the brunet put all thought out of his mind and retrieved the project to begin work on it. He'd wasted enough time already.

XXX

Two hours later, as Kaiba ascended the steps, he heard voices coming from the living room. Mokuba's voice he recognized. The other voice –

_"Oh, bugger! I'm sorry –"_

He _also_ recognized. Unfortunately.

"Didn't I tell you to go home?" the brunet questioned, walking into the living room. Mokuba launched himself from the couch at his brother, hugging him soundly. Kaiba absently petted his younger brother's hair.

Ryou was sprawled across the couch, his arms crossed. A small smile flickered across his face. "No. You only told me to leave – I assumed you meant the room, not the house." A small triumph, perhaps, but he seemed content with it.

However, Kaiba was not. He disengaged from Mokuba. "I told you already – leave. So, now…leave. This house, this property, and go back home. I'll see you in school tomorrow."

"Nii-sama – don't make him go." Surprised, Kaiba looked down to his brother. "I _like_ Ryou-kun!" Mokuba announced, completely ignoring the fact that the British boy was older, Kaiba noted with some amusement.

Well, if that was Mokuba's wish… "Keep him entertained, then," Kaiba instructed. "I'll be downstairs. Ryou – _don't_ come down unless the house is on fire." Knowing the fair-haired youth, his mere presence could make Kaiba's project simply vaporize for no law known to man.

The smile of victory vanished from Ryou's lips. Kaiba turned on his heel and disappeared once more, leaving the British student and the youngest member of the Kaiba household together. He planned on returning in an few hours, figuring that by then Ryou would have become tired of Mokuba, and exhausted of waiting.

A few hours turned into a stretch of time more, and _that_ in turn extended itself to more than half the night. Haggard, circles carving themselves below his eyes, but completely satisfied with the skeleton of the rocket, Kaiba once more entered the main frame of the mansion.

He discovered that Mokuba had gone to bed on his own; the lights upstairs were off, and his brother's door was slightly opened. Mokuba always left his bedroom door closed unless he was inside, sleeping. Just something left over from their days with Gozaboru – something to ensure that Kaiba could check in whenever necessary…a code.

Kaiba was not ready for sleep himself. He wandered the house for hours sometimes, waiting until his body was too exhausted to fight off the call of sleep. He did so now, stalking down the steps, letting his feet carry him where they would. There was a set pattern to his steps, taking him where he thought he needed to be the most.

Kitchen, dining room, back through the kitchen, up the stairs, into spare bedrooms, back downstairs, through the kitchen again, into the living room –

Ryou was on the sofa, curled up, asleep.

He considered waking the British student up to send him home. Then he wondered about Mokuba – had he really gone to sleep on his own, then? There was always a distrust of authority figures, left over from their past. He could hardly imagine anyone making Mokuba go to sleep. There was no way.

"K-kaiba?" Ryou's voice, soft and unassuming. The fair-haired youth pushed himself up, rubbing at his eyes. Even in the dim lighting, Kaiba could see Ryou. His skin seemed to cast an unearthly glow, as if he was an apparition.

The brunet was disinclined to reply, simply staring, his mind painting a different young male on the sofa, one with dark hair instead.

"Kaiba?"

Again his name, again soft, again… And Ryou stood, reaching out, his pale hand ghosting across Kaiba's arm, startling the brunet who had been thrown into the past. "Kaiba – are you all right?"

He could remember another voice, asking the same thing.

_Nii-sama – are you all right?_

Night wore away the defenses. Night collapsed resolve. Night was dangerous.

It was when the memories came back at their strongest, when nightmares he thought forgotten haunted him from the very corners of his waking world. Darkness cast all into shadow, and from the shadows rose something frightful.

He enveloped the ghostly vision in his arms, pulling him in close. "It will be all right," he promised, speaking to an echo of the past. "It _will_ be all right."

Maybe in the morning he wouldn't remember what he was saying, or _who_ he was talking to. Maybe the next dawn would see him upstairs, sleeping in his room. Maybe Ryou would wonder constantly the next week and a half about the exchange, and wonder if Kaiba remembered it at all.

But Kaiba wouldn't. And Ryou wouldn't mention it.

But the two of them _would_ get a brilliant grade on their project. Just…not for the rocket. It would be something else entirely…

XXX

"Ryou…'xactly how _did_ ya make it snow in biology?"


	5. Conquestship: Sail Away

**Disclaimer(s):** Lessie...YGO isn't mine, and the song I wrote this to (dear god, did I really?) doesn't belong to me either. _Sail Away_ by The Rasmus (a MUST LISTEN TO)...and YGO by that guy's name who I can't spell.  
**Pairing: **This is **CONQUESTshipping** which is **((ValonxMai))**.  
**Warning(s):** Author was operating under the delusion that the Shadow Realm is something like a reversible Purgatory. If one person opts to die all the way, then the other person can go free~

* * *

I just sort of stood there. I expected something worse than this. Something…painful, I suppose. Having your soul ripped out – isn't that supposed to _hurt? _Just a little? But as the edges of the Oricalcos Seal closed in around me, all I felt was a sort of remorse. Because I _remembered._

**XXX**

_The hall was slightly cold. Mai was standing there, right off to my left. She looked proud…fierce. I saw that look in her eyes first. The others…they told me it'd be madness, bringing a woman in. I knew better though. She was perfect – from that crown of golden hair to her attitude. She knew what it was to be tough…knew better than some of the others, even. _

_Dartz was standing on the dais, gazing down at us. We all needed a 'sponsor' to get into the gang. I volunteered to be Mai's. How could I not? She was everything that Dartz said we were looking for – strong, elegant, brave. And yet she wasn't perfect, either. She had her faults. We all did. _

_I don't think I could have dealt with perfection. Not after living in a church for the beginning of my life. Religion does strange things to people. So do gangs. Except this one…this one, the only strange things that happen, happen during duels. And that only helps us win. _

_When she dueled in the initiation rite, I watched. She made me proud. She was beautiful out there, in the arena. Her eyes were bright as she dispatched of her opponent with those harpies of hers. She had their same fierce demeanor. Between the two of us – among all of us – I knew the rest of the world would be jealous. _

_We had Dartz' plans, and our own dreams. We had something to fight for. Something worth fighting for. _

_***~*~*~*~***_

_"S'all righ', Mai." _

_She was leaning on the railing, looking out from the balcony. The city was dark, except for those few flickering lights that never seem to know when to go out._

_"But what if something goes wrong?" _

_Always worried, always worrying. But I couldn't fault her for that. None of us knew much about her background, but from what she'd told me – more than she ever let on to the others – she always had been a bit of a perfectionist. And I guess that included keeping everyone alive in episodes like this one._

_The night air was chilly. I put my arm around her – she didn't push me away like she used to._

_"It'll be all righ'."_

_She didn't look like she quite believed me. _

_"But…what if –"_

_"Mai – look a' me."_

_Her face turned, troubled._

_"It _will_ be all righ'. Look, we're a family, righ'? We ain't gonna die. We've got everythin' that we need – and Mai? Since we _are_ a family…remember – we all love ya."_

_She didn't answer, but I think she knew. It wasn't just our 'family' or even mostly. It was me. But the troubled look on her face eased a bit. It must have been the right thing to say._

**XXX**

I can see her, standing there on the other side of the curtains that separate this world from the next. Did I ever tell you that I love you? Wait for me, Mai, would you?

There's one place left to go –

Because you can go home from this world if one of us goes on. The night is calling my name, Mai… You stay. I'll sail away.

* * *

I know he's coming. The veil between this world and the one before is thin enough for me to look through. It's like going through my closet, almost…seeing things in different shades than before. He's glowing. He looks…peaceful. Then his eyes seem to fix on me, like he can see me, the way he used to. And I…I _remember. _

**XXX**

_The hall was slightly cold. There were candles everywhere. Dartz had called this a rite of passage. He called it a celebration. All I knew was that I was damn scared. I'd seen what the seal could do to people. I didn't want that to happen to me, and I almost didn't want to do it to anyone else. But that was fear, and fear was unacceptable if I wanted to prove myself._

_When I had my opponent across from me in the makeshift dueling arena, I set aside any and all fear; this was the time for me. I went for it. The duel passed in a blur of frozen colors and screaming. The seal – when I played it, everything changed. The world was painted in shades of envy and power. _

_But when the duel concluded, there were so many people around me, welcoming me. Saying I was home. I'd never been home before. And…_he_ told me that every day was a gift. But that…was once upon a time._

_***~*~*~*~***_

_"S'all righ', Mai." _

_He was standing slightly off and to the right, his arms crossed, and a smile on his face. He always wore that same smile. The night air ruffled his unruly hair._

_"But what if something goes wrong?" _

_Hadn't I said there would be no more fear in my life? I couldn't help it though. I needed to know. I'd spent too much of my life looking for something…and I'd never known what it was. Now, though – what if this was it? I didn't want to lose what might be the chance of a lifetime. I didn't want to die._

_The night air was chilly. His arm draped over my shoulders. I was too weary to push him away._

_"It'll be all righ'."_

_And if it isn't?_

_"But…what if –"_

_"Mai – look a' me."_

_I had to look at him, because he seemed so assured. I wished I was that self-confident, that I had that level of belief in how things would turn out. _

_"It _will_ be all righ'. Look, we're a family, righ'? We ain't gonna die. We've got everythin' that we need – and Mai? Since we _are_ a family…remember – we all love ya."_

_'Family.' He always said family. But tonight, I think he meant more – or less. I think he was talking about himself. It's nice to feel loved._

**XXX**

Sail away it's time to leave rainy days are yours to keep fade away twilight's calling my name you will stay I'll sail away

I catch his arm and stop him. Shake my head. No… I can't let you do this. I recall how well you liked running in the rain, and how messy that mop of hair would get. Besides…the twilight's calling my name. You will stay. You have something left to live for. I'll sail away.

* * *

**_No reason to lie_**

**_No need to pretend_**

**_I'm grateful to die_**

**_To live once again_**

**_I'm fearless to fly_**

**_And reach for the end_**

**_And reach for the end_**

**_Reach for the end_**

**_. . ._**

**_Sail away_**

**_Sail away_**

**_It's time to leave_**

**_Rainy days are yours to keep_**

**_Fade away_**

**_The night is calling my name_**

**_You will stay_**

**_I'll sail away_**

**_Sail away_**

**_The night is calling my name_**

**_Sail away_**


	6. Mischiefship: Michaelangelo

Michelangelo  
**Warnings: **Absent-minded-ness on my part, and the assumption (again) that people know what scrying is, and what it entails. So, in case you don't...here's an explanation: _Scrying is the art of looking into the future and/or present; most often it shows a viewer only what s/he needs most to know. _Oh, and it's important to be in *trance* for scrying. Sleeping = screwing up of interpretation.  
**Parings:** The pairing for this is **MISCHIEFshipping ((ManaxThief King Bakura))**, but there's also quite a bit of **Apprenticeshipping ((ManaxMahaado)).**

* * *

I have never been able to resist power.

"You will probably see things you never wanted to, Mana." Mahaado's voice was quiet. His hands were cold on mine. I clung to them, staring into the eyes of the one who had been my teacher since before I could remember. He was so much changed now from when I first encountered him. I nodded, holding back the tears of joy that threatened to spill. He wanted me to look –

I had never meant enough before, never been strong enough – well, in control enough – to be allowed to scry. He brushed a hand through my hair, and smiled. Once. One smile – it was enough to set my very heart alight.

"Thank you, Master," I murmured softly.

Then he was gone, and I was alone once more. But it did not matter. Mahaado had smiled. At _me._

*~*~*~*~*

"So he has sent you?"

I don't like dealing with Isis. She is…fearfully quiet, and sees far too much for anyone's good. I nodded, tentative. Yes, the Master has sent me. And I have come, have I not?

She regarded me with care, as if thinking that perhaps – very slim a chance, but there anyway – I had come of my own accord, without Mahaado's blessing. As if I would. As if I _could_. Mahaado is the Master, is he not? Who should know better than Isis – one does not defy one's master's wishes.

"Then come."

I went. She placed her hands on my shoulders, and for a long time, simply stood there, staring into my eyes. Then Isis nodded, and turned, nearly dragging me along with her. "You will be one of the dreamers."

"Of course." I had no idea what she meant, but she would teach me about the art Mahaado had promised. It was all I needed. And then I could return to my Master, and make him proud.

*~*~*~*~*

Weeks had passed since my training first began. Isis had been insistent that I leave off performing the rituals on my own. Only when we were together, she had insisted. I had not wished to disappoint, but now, she was no longer teaching. Every moment of the time we spent together was wasted on simple things. Isis ordered me to roll papyrus into scrolls, to copy down ingredients for various pastes and potions. Nothing – _nothing_ – about the art.

Nothing

So tonight, I had decided, that no matter the rules that had been given me, I would ignore them. If Isis had indeed already given me everything she knew – and I had no doubts that she had – then it was up to me to pull all the pieces together.

Mahaado had said it best when he told me that the past, future and present were all one puzzle, waiting for a mind sharp enough to untangle them. Once that mind knew…then anything was possible. My master could never be wrong about anything.

Tonight was my night.

I lit the incense, and it began to smolder gently, the tiny pinprick of red glowing at the top of the stick. Slowly the scent began to fill the room, waves of the smoke gathering on the ceiling. Then I sat down, the way Isis had taught me, and I closed my eyes. Meditation, she called it. I usually fell asleep, but tonight I was determined. This for my master. I _would_ succeed, and prove myself.

*~*~*~*~*

_I dreamed about you. I dreamed that you were older. Your hair…stained whiter than the clouds. There was still the same fierce pride in your steps, the same strength of character to your motions. I saw the scar, cast upon your skin, and knew it was you. How could it not be? You told me of your childhood. As I watched, I saw you kneel beside a river, taking up a stick and begin to prod the mud, pulling up chunks of earth. Then you used your hands, digging through the mire until I could see what you were pulling up. Bodies. Dead bodies. _

I woke. Had I been dreaming? No… I denied it to myself. I had _Seen_, as Isis Saw. But it was not enough. No clear image, nothing to stay in my mind and remember.

_I dreamed about you. I dreamed you were a pilgrim. You were traveling, seeking someone. In the way dreams have…I _knew_ you were searching for someone. A woman. A mother. There was a face, too, because I saw her… But I could not remember it. You took her in your arms, and asked…asked about the children. Someone, somewhere, you abandoned, so very long ago._

I woke. Dreams…only dreams. Mahaado would have told me if he had… No. It was only my imagination. Or maybe it was our future. That seemed more likely, no matter that Isis had told me scrying showed only the present and early past. This was to be our future then. I was content.

_I dreamed about you. I dreamed that you were riding. The horse was red like the desert sun as it descends to the horizon. The horse ran along the Nile river, bearing you along with it. The sky began to darken, and a path of white and grey formed for the both of you. Together, you ran up the bridge of clouds, until you were gone from my sight. A thousand years, a thousandth of a second – time without measure later, and I saw the two of you…falling. There was nothing I could do._

I woke. Heavy breathing, choked me into consciousness from the realms of dream. Future – no. No, this had to be something different. Perhaps I ventured into the places Isis had never imagined. And yet, I still was searching for something of use.

_I dreamed about you. I dreamed that you lay dying. The cry of a hawk echoed through the empty sky. The fields were drenched with gold, shimmering under the burning sun. Little pinpricks of red glowed in the midst of brown thorns…dots that were roses. I was close to you, hearing your breathing, watching you. Around you there were ghosts of the past, echoes of things I'd never seen before. The shaft of an arrow protruded from your breast, but when I reached out to pull it from you, my hand went through it. A ghost… And so were you._

I woke. Dreams seemed so real. For a long time, I sat awake, tears streaming silently down my face. The moon outside was bright, pouring silver light down. I stood and walked to the window, leaning on the frame, trying to calm myself. I was afraid to see more. Question still lingered in my mind – was this my Master who I was seeing? Who else could it be? And yet…for all the senses in my heart saying it was, there were more in my head shouting nay. It was with hesitation I laid down for my last rest…to sleep.

_I dreamed about you. I dreamed you were weeping. The tears carved out paths across your cheeks. Did I ever tell you that I loved you? Your hands raised to brush away the little diamond drops, using one of the silken cloths I'd gifted to you on your birthing day celebration years ago. You looked at me then – more, looked _though_ me, and I felt my heart grow cold. It was not you. _

I woke. Only a dream. But I knew…it was not Mahaado.

*~*~*~*~*

I never told anyone. My lessons with Isis continued. My master looked upon me more favorably, and perhaps things might have turned out well enough, perhaps… If I hadn't dreamed.

The city was aflame one night when I woke, and Mahaado was pulling at my arm, dragging me from my sleep. He pressed a wet cloth over my mouth and nose, and ordered me to get out. He was going after the others. The other keepers.

I listened to him. I always had. With the blessing of my master, I fled the palace, into the city. Everything, everywhere – smoke choked the sky, and I thought of how the incense I had once burned had done the same. Was some god, somewhere, attempting to see the present, and burning our lives as his sacrifice? I did not know, and at the moment, such a care was far from my thoughts.

I reached the outskirts of the city, and stood, looking down at the valley where the palace and its surrounding area was located. The sky was stained grey from the smoke. Anguished cries echoed through the night air. At the heart of the chaos was the palace, glowing gold. I realized I was crying, and turned to flee into some other chapter of my life.

Warm hands caught me, and I looked up, to see the face of the man I had once thought was Mahaado. How I had mistaken them… The light in his eyes said he was the one responsible for this. He turned me back to face the destruction, wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his head on my shoulder. Too close…much too close.

"Have you ever wanted to paint?"

I shuddered.

His breath was hot against the curve of my ear. I was shaking.

"To capture the souls of the living in a dead state… We'll paint the whole world burning. What skill, what talent, what _power._"

I have never been able to resist power.


	7. Obscureship: Tomorrow I Leave For Battle

Tomorrow I Leave For Battle

**PREMISE: **I decided to put this in Egypt, and give Shadii a physical form. He and Isis are lovers. I know neither how nor why this came about; it simply did. This is their goodbye to one another. Shadii is going off to fight for the Pharaoh. Isis must remain behind to guard the king.

**Warnings: **General shortness, obscurity (though mostly intentional, given the name of the pairing). I actually suggest listening to this song~ It's AMAZING. ^^  
**Disclaimer:** YGO is not mine. The song 'Tomorrow I Leave For Battle' is not mine. I make no profit from this pathetically short excuse for a fanfiction.  
**Parings:** The pairing for this is **OBSCUREshipping ((IsisxShadii)).**

* * *

The room was lit by the soft glow of candles. Gossamer curtains hung around the bed, casting slight shadow on the two inhabitants. There were soft words, exchanged in the manner of those who know they have but short time together. Regret hung in the air.

Their words became slightly more desperate – a reminder that one was leaving. A promise of return…should the world not come crashing down. A promise of eternal love, should the soul depart the body. Soft words. Pained ones.

Gentle hands caressed her cheeks. She closed her eyes, drawing deep breaths that quivered in her chest. Lips trembled, even as the rest of her body did under the reassuring touches.

"I may survive. And I shall return to you."

Her hands clasped at his, drawing them closer to her body. They were chilled. The cold of death? She had not the heart to Look. Some things were better not to know. His hands were cold. He drew her to him. She lay in his arms, consoling herself in the time they had now.

A gust of wind rippled through the chamber, violently dragging at the bed curtains. It was cold. She started in surprise. She Saw.

"And if I die, just remember I love you. And you'll always be mine."

She pressed close, kissing him.

One last time.

On the morrow…he left for battle.


End file.
